


Family Matters

by Hekate1308



Series: Tales of the Thursdays [4]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, The Thursdays adopt Morse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 15:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19201438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: There were admittedly some things they had not considered when they had adopted Morse.





	Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

> No, I am not going to upload a story a day, only when inspiration strikes.

There were admittedly some things they had not considered when they had adopted Morse.

For example, the fact that people were bound to notice that they suddenly had three children instead two and that – well – the timeline didn’t exactly explain that little fact.

The first colleague from the station who learned about Morse was PC Hodgins. There’d been a murder, and he’d been sent to pick Fred up, much to Win’s chagrin, since it meant he’d miss dinner and she had decided he had missed too many good meals in the last few weeks.

Morse, always eager to be helpful (only later would Fred realize that in those early days, he’d been slightly worried that if he wasn’t, they’d sent him back – all too understandable given where he had lived since his mum passed), rushed to open the door. “Good evening. Are you PC Hodgins?”

When Fred entered the corridor, he saw the PC study Morse with something like amused curiosity. “Thank you, Morse.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Thursday.”

“Still” he said, stepping past him and squeezing his shoulder, “And don’t stay up too long reading.” Only a few days ago he had found him slumped over a book in bed and gently made him comfortable.

“I won’t” Morse sighed but didn’t call him Mr. Thursday again. He’d already noticed he was doing it less and less. It was progress.

PC Hodgins didn’t mention Morse once they were in the car, but Fred could tell he was curious. Since he’d always been a decent bloke, he said, “Morse’s our oldest. Now, anyway. We adopted him.”

He nodded. “Seems like a sharp little chap.”

“He is.” They let the matter drop.

* * *

 

PC Hodgins wasn’t one to tell tales, so the news only spread slowly through the station. Not that Fred felt ashamed or embarrassed; he simply wasn’t so close to his colleagues as to tell them about his private life (as he had been with Carter, he thought with a pang). And so he simply hadn’t yet had cause to mention the growth of their family to his immediate superior DI Tobbins.

But then they had a case where someone had left a piece of paper with what appeared to be a poem behind.

“If you trap the moment before it’s ripe, the tears of repentance you’ll certainly wipe; but if once you let the ripe moment go, you’ll never wipe off the tears of woe” DI Tobbins later read out loud in the squad room. “Could be important. We should better send one of the chaps to the library, they might know where it’s from.”

Fred had an idea. “I can think of a quicker way, sir.” It was in the afternoon, and a rainy day; so Morse had probably not taken Joan and Sam to the park.

“Hello, pet” he said on the phone, “Could you get Morse?”

“Of course. Morse! Dad’s on the phone!”

“Hello, Dad” was the next thing he heard, and he couldn’t hide his smile. He hadn’t been calling them Dad and Mother for long but it already felt like they always had been exactly that.

He began reading the lines “If you trap the moment before it’s ripe, the tears of repentance you’ll certainly wipe – “ and was interrupted by Morse finishing the verse. “But if once you let the ripe moment go, you’ll never wipe off the tears of woe”. It’s William Blake.”

“William Blake? Alright, then. Thanks, Morse.”

“You’re welcome, Dad.”

He hung up. “It’s from William Blake.”

“Who told you that?” DI Tobbins demanded.

“Our oldest, sir.”

“Isn’t she a bit young for poetry?”

“Oldest boy, sir. We adopted him a couple of months back.”

“I see. How old?”

“Fourteen.”

“And he’s already reading William Blake?” Tobbins demanded sounding incredulous.

“And Tennyson. And Shakespeare. And a few others” he boasted, not even trying to conceal how proud he felt.

Tobbins hummed and turned back to the board. “And he’s sure?”

“Positive, sir. When Morse is certain, it’s true.”

He hummed again and Fred again didn’t bother to try and hide his smile.

* * *

 

The neighbours talked. Of course they did. They could hardly have concealed the fact that they now had another child living with them, not even if they had wanted to; but Win couldn’t have cared less. Let them wag their tongues. Morse was definitely worth being talked about.

It was a Saturday, and she and Morse had gone shopping. As usual, she had to make sure that he didn’t sneak too many things into the basket due to his sweet tooth, but really, it was more a game than anything else; and so, when he came to her with a package of cookies and asked, “Please, Mother?” she found she couldn’t say no.

When she turned around, she found one of her neighbours from down the street studying them. “Oh hello Mrs. Turner.”

“Good afternoon” Morse said politely.

“You haven’t the newest addition to the family yet” Win said brightly. “This is Morse.”

“How do you do” he said, solemnly shaking Mrs. Turner’s hand, and she stifled a chuckle. Maybe she should suggest he start reading books from this century, too. His library card certainly got used a lot. Barely a day went by without her finding him holding another book in his hands. She’d once tried asking but it had been made pretty clear rather fast that his father had considered reading a waste of time so she hadn’t pried.

“Aren’t you a polite young man” Mrs. Turner said, “And, are you enjoying your new home, Morse?”

Win would have objected if she hadn’t known that Mrs. Turner happened to be a very kindly woman, who probably only wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

“Oh yes, very much so” Morse replied earnestly.

Win smiled.

* * *

 

They didn’t have much contact with Fred’s brother and his family. They simply didn’t get along that well, and to be honest, Win had never really liked him, either; still, now and then they would invite them to dinner or vice versa.

They only realized they had forgotten to tell them about Morse – really, he was so much part of the family already, it seemed somewhat incredible that a few months ago, he hadn’t been – when he went to open the door and his new uncle’s voice rang out. “Who are you?”

“I’m Morse” he said. “Will you come in?”

“I say!”

He strolled in, looking at Fred. “Do you pick up kids from the street now too, like stray cats? Protect and serve indeed.”

She saw the expression of pain that passed across Morse’s face at being compared to a stray cat and then, to her dismay, she was a witness to him hiding how he felt. She didn’t want him to do that. Never again. He’d had to quite often nosh in his father’s house, she imagined.

She opened her mouth but Fred beat her to it. “Morse is one of us, now. You better remember.”

He shrugged. “Hey, you want to take in some little rascal, it’s your –“

“I’m not a rascal” Morse said quietly, and she felt a surge of pride. Just a short time ago, he wouldn’t have had the courage to protest.

“Indeed you’re not” Fred said, squeezing his shoulder.

At least the answer made his brother stop talking about Morse.

* * *

 

Aunt Reenie was another matter entirely, as they had well known she would be. As was her wont, she breezed into the house spontaneously one evening, drawing Win into a hug at the doorstep and saying, “I figured I help buy something, I check it out.”

“Aunt” she said gently. If anyone else had said something similar, she would have protested more; but she knew her too well; and her eyes were sparkling with mischief as she made her way into the living room where Morse was reading to Joan and Sam.

“So you are the nice young man Win told me so much about!” Of course she knew not to mention the two hundred pounds she had sent them.

Morse carefully marked the page while the kiddies greeted their aunt, then got up. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m your Aunt Reenie.” She then drew him into a hug too.

Fred stepped up to her. “She’s never going to change” he sighed.

“I certainly hope not” she told him with a smile.

* * *

 

The truth was, Fred and Morse didn’t really have that much ion common. He’d liked going fishing with his dad and kicking a ball around when he had been a boy; Morse would rather stay at home and read or listen to music when he wasn’t busy playing with Joan and Sam.

Still, he made the effort. “Say, that chap Blake I called about a while back – want to tell me about him?” or something similar usually did the trick.

The first few times, Morse was a bit shy, and Fred figured his father had probably not been very enthusiastic about listening to him speak about stuff he liked. Well, Fred was made of other stuff; he certainly would never discourage any of his children to speak to him.

And so, Morse got used ton chattering away at the dinner table just like Joanie and Sammy, now and then even forgetting to eat in his enthusiasm until Win gently reminded him. He usually stopped talking abruptly, blushed and began to shovel food into his mouth. Fred didn’t mind. He would much rather see him with sparkling eyes going on and on about Milton than the subdued creature he’d first met in the park what seemed so long ago now.

* * *

 

Win didn’t quite share Morse’s love of opera, but she soon found that Joan seemed to grow rather fond of it as well.

One evening, she came into the living room to watch Morse and Sam listen to Joan trying her best to sing an aria from Madame Butterfly. It didn’t really sound like anything she’d heard on Morse’s LP, but Morse applauded her regardless.

It was one of the cutest scenes she’d ever had the honour of witnessing. When she told Fred later that night, he laughed. “just imagine – he might turn our Joanie into a star.”

* * *

 

It was around that time that Morse seemed to come to a decision about his own future, as well.

He and Joan were at school and she’d just pit down Sam for his nap when she saw a book on Morse’s nightstand she couldn’t recall seeing before.

She picked it up and read the title.

_English Criminal Law._

Oh. It seemed that Morse – who had lately more and more often shown his wish that the hat stand rule would eb abandoned, although so far, Fred had held firm – was indeed interested in police work. Either that or it was another proof of his growing closeness to Fred.

She put it down gently.

* * *

 

One day, she was concerned when she went to pick Joan up from school only to find her near tears. “Mum, why does Cindy from my class say that Morse isn’t my real brother?”

“Because some people have strange opinions” she said quickly, “But we know better, don’t we?”

Joan thought about that. Formerly, she would probably have answered immediately, but since she had noticed that Morse often carefully contemplated what hew as about to say, she’d developed a habit of doing the same. “Yes” she said finally. “Morse’s my older brother.”

“See? It doesn’t matter what the Cindys of the world think.”

Morse was already at home when they arrived. Joan rushed to him and hugged him tightly. “You’ll always be my brother” she said.

“Thanks, Joanie” Morse croaked, gently stroking her hair. “And you’ll always be my baby sister.”

Win had to pretend she had to wipe her nose so they wouldn’t notice the tears in her eyes.

* * *

 

Sam, of course, was so small that she wasn’t surprised to find one day that he had seemingly forgotten Morse hadn't always been his brother. “What did Morse look like as a baby, Mum?” he wanted to know one afternoon as they were going through old snapshots. Morse was busy helping Joan with her homework.

She opened her mouth, then thought about it. Finally, she said quietly, “Just like you, really.”


End file.
